CHAPTER 7
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MARCELO OPENED THE door of his small studio, located on the second floor of an old textile mill transformed into a loft by the ingenuity of architects. He pulled the jacket out and threw it on the bed, separated from the rest of the single room by a folding screen, and dialed the key on his phone to hear his messages.
“Nothing important” he thought “luckily because today I am "shot" and I need to rest”
He began to undress, spreading his clothes all over the place, and when he was entering the bathroom the phone rang. Resignedly Marcelo took the handset thinking that it was a call from his office, but when he heard the voice at the other end his mood turned 180 degrees.
“Hello Teresa. What a joy to hear your voice! I actually had been waiting for that call f
